Belief

The Plan of the
Master Weaver
Our lives are but fine weavings
That God and we prepare,
Each life becomes a fabric planned
And fashioned in his care.
We may not always see just how
The weavings intertwine,
But we must trust the Master's hand
And follow His design,
For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
While we must look from underneath
And trust in Him to guide . . .

Sometimes a strand of sorrow
Is added to His plan,
And though it's difficult for us,
We still must understand
That it's He who fills the shuttle,
It's He who knows what's best,
So we must weave in patience
And leave to Him the rest . . .

Not till the loom is silent
and the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reasons why -
The dark threads are as needed
In the Weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

--taken from a card
from dtr. Susan - 1994

"The ideas I stand for are not mine.
I borrowed them from Socrates.
I swiped them from Chesterfield.
I stole them from Jesus.
If you don't like their rules,
whose would you use?"
--Dale Carnegie

God's Wings
Following our visit to Yellowstone in 1999, this story became even more memorable.

To the world you might be one person, but to one person you might be the world. An article in National Geographic several years ago provided a penetrating picture of God's wings... After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, so those under the cover of her wings would live. "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge" (Psalm 91:4) Being loved this much should make a difference in your life. Remember the One who loves you and then, be different because of it. Remember, don't drive faster than your Guardian Angel can fly.

"Fruits of the Spirit"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It's quiet. It's early. My coffee is hot. The sky is still black. The world is still asleep. The day is coming.

In a few moments the day will arrive. It will roar down the track with the rising of the sun. The stillness of the dawn will be exchanged for the noise of the day. The calm of the solitude will be replaced by the pounding pace of the human race. The refuge of the early morning will be invaded by decisions to be made and deadlines to be met.

For the next twelve hours I will be exposed to the day's demands. It is now that I must make a choice. Because of Calvary, I'm free to choose. And so I choose.

I choose love...
No occasion justifies hatred; no injustice warrants bitterness, I choose love.
Today I will love God and what God loves.

I choose joy...
I will invite my God to be the God of circumstance. I will refuse the temptation to be cynical... the tool of the lazy thinker. I will refuse to see people as anything less than human beings, created by God. I will refuse to see any problem as anything less than an opportunity to see God.

I choose peace...
I will live forgiven. I will forgive so that I may live.

I choose patience...
I will overlook the inconveniences of the world. Instead of cursing the one who takes my place, I'll invite him to do so. Rather than complaining that the wait is too long, I will thank God for a moment to pray. Instead of clenching my fist at new assignments, I will face them with joy and courage.

I choose kindness...
I will be kind to the poor, for they are alone. Kind to the rich, for they are afraid. And kind to the unkind, for such is how God has treated me.

I choose goodness...
I will go without a dollar before I take a dishonest one. I will be overlooked before I will boast. I will confess before I will accuse. I choose goodness.

I choose faithfulness...
Today I will keep my promises. My debtors will not regret their trust.
My associates will not question my word. My wife will not question my love. And my children will never fear that their father will not come home.

I choose gentleness...
Nothing is won by force. I choose to be gentle. If I raise my voice, may it be only in praise. If I clench my fist, may it be only in prayer. If I make a demand, may it be only of myself.

I choose self-control...
I am a spiritual being. After this body is dead, my spirit will soar. I refuse to let what will rot, rule the eternal. I choose self-control. I will be drunk only by joy. I will be impassioned only by my faith. I will be influenced only by God. I will be taught only by Christ. I choose self-control.

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. To these I commit my day. If I succeed, I will give thanks. If I fail, I will seek His grace. And then when this day is done, I will place my head on my pillow and rest.

--Max Lucado, from his book,
"When God Whispers Your Name"

Mike and I have twice attended Oak Hills Church of Christ in San Antonio, where Max is pastor, and both times were blessed. ~ jc

			B - I - B - L - E

A father was approached by his small son, who
told him proudly, "I know what the Bible means!"

His father smiled and replied, "What do you 
mean,  you know what the Bible means?"

The son replied, "I do know!"

"Okay," said his father.  "So, Son, 
what does the  Bible mean?"

"That's easy, Daddy.  It means 'Basic 
Information  Before Leaving Earth.'"

FUCC Mlfd., CT
1^st United Church of Christ, Congregational, Milford, Connecticut ~ where my early religious training began.

Original church founded - 1639.
Photo - jclark

The First Church of Christ, Congregational, is Steeped in History
When the fifteen English families led by the Rev. Peter Prudden arrived in New Haven via Boston, they held their first religious service under an oak tree on Sunday, April 25, 1638. Two years later they purchased land known as Wepawaug and set up a theocracy, citing God as their only king and the Bible their only law.
The Pilgrim village that became known as Milford and the community launched by Prudden would endure from those earliest roots straight through into the 21st century. Organizational continuity did not always run the smoothest of course. One hundred years later, there was a division within the community and the Second Church, or Plymouth Church was formed.
The communities were reunited in 1926. Along the way, church building and parsonages were combined into one "campus" and their spiritual and communal efforts merged to speak with one unified voice. In 1971 parishioners changed the name to the current version.
This was my church home from 1938-1987 and where Mike and I were married in 1959.

My mother-in-law shared this with her children and grandchildren before
her death. She thought it an important message for all of our lives.

ANOTHER DAY

Lord thank You for another day,
Within this life of mine.
Give me the strength to live it well,
Whatever I may find.
Bestow from your abundance,
Whatever I may lack
To use the hours wisely,
For I cannot have them back.

Lord, thank You for another day,
In which to make amends
For little slights or petty words,
Inflicted on my friends.
For sometimes losing patience,
With problems that I find.
For seeing faults in others' lives,
But not the ones in mine.

Lord, thank You for another chance,
In which to try to be
A little more deserving
Of the gifts You've given me.
For yesterday is over,
And tomorrow's far away,
And I remain committed,
To the good I do today!
-- Grace E. Easley

We're all familiar with this painting - look behind the scenes at the life of the artist,
Albrecht Durer. It begins, "Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near
Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen!"

A Gift of Love

Lord, if I have no other gift,
Let this my one wish be -
That love will multiply its seed
And blossom forth in me.
That if I see a yearning face,
A hurting heart, I'll be
Sensitive to every need,
And love them, Lord, for Thee.
If there be a fierce dispute,
With anger running wild,
I ask Thee, Lord, for gentleness,
A spirit that is mild,
To soothe away each hurt and tear,
Each angry word that's spilled,
That love will have its way again,
Relationships to build.
And in this rushing pace of life,
Let patience have its way,
that I can wait with growing hope
For a more triumphant day,
Not wondering why a day is dark,
Or why a certain trial,
But knowing that Thy love upholds-
With thee there's no denial.
Lord, forgive me when I'm wrong
And lift me up to Thee,
Let forgiveness dwell within
For others, Lord, from me.
Let there be no grudge to hold,
To keep away my brother,
But let there be an openness,
Respect for one another.
Let all these things spring forth in me,
Send power from above,
But, more than any other things,
A heart that's full of love.

~ by Sharon Lee Roberts

~ ~ ~
This a grand place to BE
when we know there is an even
brighter place in our futures!

~ ~ ~

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